


You're Gonna Live Tomorrow

by MajorEnglishEsquire, mishcollin, orange_crushed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherhood, Family, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorEnglishEsquire/pseuds/MajorEnglishEsquire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishcollin/pseuds/mishcollin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_crushed/pseuds/orange_crushed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has chosen a human life. Castiel has chosen the humans he intends to spend it with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Gonna Live Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been sitting around for ages until the second half appeared out of the blue written by mishcollin and robotmango/orange_crushed, [original post here](http://robotmango.tumblr.com/post/73640109588/mishcollin-robotmango-i-would-pay-one). And total credit to them for letting me take their words and transplant them like a vital organ into this fic so it could _live_ and I, like a mad scientist, could shout that line you know I'm shouting right now.
> 
> I do not own the rights to these characters, setting, show, etc. No harm is intended.

They are in the kitchen, just Cas and Sam. Sam perusing a newspaper while chewing toast, Cas warming the fingers of his left hand between his knees while he eats cereal. Mostly he uses his spoon to turn the little biscuits over and over in the milk. His fingers are freezing for no reason. At least he thinks there's no reason. If he had been settled further into human life, he would know it was from nerves.

Cas says, "I want to marry Dean."

He's afraid to look at Sam, either to see his reaction or watch him formulate one. Cas isn't even clear on the basics of living as a regular man. He doesn't get things right a lot of the time. He uses the wrong soap to wash the dishes. He's stepped into the shower before taking his socks off more than once. He is still unclear on the difference between sauté and fry. He's never had a relationship besides the one with Daphne and the flirting with Meg, neither of which, he supposes, were honest relationships.

What the hell makes him think he wants to marry Dean all of the sudden? Well, he'd just stumbled out of a lake naked and had married Daphne mere weeks after. They'd had a ceremony. A loving extended family. The Winchesters have given him so much more than that and he knows he is meant to love Dean, knows now that he is meant to stand by his side. More than that: in this human flesh and bone, without his power, they hold an equality and a partnership.

He gave up that borrowed grace and has fallen for Dean. In every sense he can think of.

He wants to complete the circuit. He wants it to simply be reality. This is where family _actually_ is. This is where he feels most right as an individual and a man. He loves Dean in a way that people love their partners when they commit to them. More, probably. He was never a teenager, so he's almost certain that he loves Dean more than anyone else has ever loved. He loves Dean so much, he imagines that is possible. Which, yes. That is some pretty serious love.

Sam finally moves after being still for a long time. He clears his throat.

"Do you. Um. Have a real idea, do you think? Of what marriage actually is?" Sam asks, as gently as he probably can.

Cas looks up to him at last. He thinks it through, contemplates for a long minute.

Before he can properly review all the marriages he can recall, Sam interrupts.

"I mean. I didn't even know you guys were-- were together," he trips over the words.

"Oh," Cas says. "We're not. In an intimate relationship," he seeks to clarify. "But I consider you both family. Only I was thinking that it might be appropriate to marry Dean as our bond is," he tries to think of the words to convey it properly, "Deep. And personal. Though I don't wish to diminish our friendship at all, Sam. I think you are one of my very best friends. Even though I am not yours."

Sam's face softens and he dusts his fingers free of crumbs. "No. Cas, you're. You're my best friend, man. You're. I mean, yeah. You are a part of this family. And, honestly, it's a."

He pauses. His eyes unfocus and he's seeing something beyond the kitchen cabinets.

When he comes back, Sam says, definitively, "It's a privilege, Cas. You should know that. To know you, to be your friend. You're awesome." He nods to himself once, but then purses his lips and considers Castiel through narrowed eyes. "Dean's my brother, though, you know, and I gotta ask: what's the endgame here? I'm really not seeing where this is coming from."

Cas finally pushes the bowl away from himself and tangles his fingers between his knees.

He looks to his knees and to his spoon and to the paper Sam set aside.

Cas starts slowly, quietly. He motions to the empty bunker before knotting his fingers again.

"Dean keeps going, leaving, to handle cases on his own and encourage the growth that you both have been working on. Separately. Since we took care of the angels and Abaddon." Cas breathes and it's okay because Sam is paying attention. Giving him time. "You are encouraging each other to do this. This is healthy. But the more Dean tries to work away from you, the closer he and I work. Until he inevitably goes off on his own to fulfill a hunt. And he was gone this morning. I came down the hall expecting to see him and when I saw his room empty, his bags gone, his mug cold in the sink."

Cas licks his lips.

"He thinks he has no reason to bring me along. Even if we are great friends. Family, like you-- well, he is doing his best trying to separate the two. The hunting life from the personal. However. Despite how much progress you've made here, I have to object. I can't have it extend to me. I want to hunt with him. I want to be where he is. And for him to want me there. I have some things... I should tell him." Cas has to clear his throat to speak properly. "If I asked him to marry me, perhaps he would appreciate my sincerity. If I explained that I wanted our lives tied together in that _human_ way," he is careful to emphasize, "I think he may start to comprehend. And then, when we _are_ married, I will have the rest of our time together to make that clear to him," Cas concludes.

When he looks up again, Sam only stares at him. It's not an angry look or a particularly open look.

Sam is wise. Cas's sincerity is, indeed, the question here. He probably has to pass the test with Sam before he can bring this idea to Dean.

But he is nervous. And nerves do strange things. Like make you chatter on when you were sure you were done talking.

"Alright. I realize that this is essentially out of nowhere. I am not sure Dean would even-- I. Well, I had not thought about it. But all his previous lovers have been women and--"

Sam's face would suddenly indicate this is not the right direction.

"I just!" he scrambles. "If you could help me get a ring or make one and we could start down that path. Or. I know there is a ceremony. Or. Alright. I mean. There probably has to be time to establish intimacy before we--"

One of Sam's eyes gets wider but not the other. Right. That's not a good direction, either.

"Maybe Dean won't be receptive to open expressions of commitment," he begins to amend. "Maybe a ring and an actual marriage would not-"

"No," Sam say simply and puts up his hands. His face is suddenly clear, like he's had some revelation. His palms up to Cas more a 'hold on' than 'just stop.'

Cas waits while Sam seems to take him in again.

"Y'know, actually." Sam is silent for another long moment. "I think, really, if you just pulled that out of the clear, blue sky on him and laid everything out -- _everything_. All of it. I think it will wallop him so hard he might actually start to believe that somebody loves him as much as he loves us."

Sam's hands fall to the table and they stare at each other.

"That sounds. Good?" Cas says.

Sam considers for another minute.

"I mean. If he knew that kind of a tie between you two meant that you weren't gonna fly off on him anymore-- I. Well, I." His eyes narrow again and he focuses on Castiel. "I'm a lot bigger than you," he says. "And you're human now."

Cas is confused.  
But agrees to these basic facts.

"So now, you understand, if you do this? And you run out on my brother?" Sam's voice is low. "We're both dangerous men, Castiel. But you understand. There would be consequences," Sam promises.

Cas sits up straight. He nods only once.

"You are my best friend, Sam. But before that, you are Dean's brother," he says it like the promise it is. In the event someone hurt Dean that badly, Castiel would expect nothing less from Sam than an assurance of total destruction.

He understands that much of human behavior quite clearly.

In light of this agreement, Sam gets up to start a new pot of coffee. Cas will wrap his hands around his mug but his fingers will be well warm by the time he is shoulder-to-shoulder with Sam.

Making wedding plans.

«»

Dean is back home by late Tuesday night.

He finds the bunker quiet, dark. Both Cas's and Sam's doors are closed. He can hear Sam sawing logs from several feet down the hall. The great table is littered with books, loose pages closed in to mark their spots. Power cords spider-web across everything and down to the nearest plugs, charging the laptop, the tablet, and several of their burner cell phones. There are newspapers and magazines. Dean wonders if Sam is looking for some sort of legitimate job.

Dean nods to himself. Good for him. Right. Good for him going out into the world. Maybe Cas is helping him construct his new background and arrange for IDs and credentials.

Dean takes a deep breath. Just a beer before bed, that's all he needs. To just wind down with a drink, maybe a record playing soft in his room.

He can think about finding a new hunt in the morning. He'd do it now, but he's too tired. He'll simply have to endure watching Sam move on while he eats breakfast and digs up another haunting or something.

Three beers. Or four then, actually. The bottles clack between his fingers on the walk back to his room. It's not loud, but when Dean settles down on his bed to choose from a stack of music, he hears a door creak down the hall. He thinks about closing his own, but there's a chance it could be Cas. He's enjoyed hanging out with Cas lately. He likes that they're getting better at this easy companionship stuff. Maybe, when Sam leaves, the bunker won't be entirely empty.

He can hope, at least.

It does turn out to be Cas. He blinks blurrily into the low light of Dean's room, palms his eye and still looks a little sleepy. The corner of Dean's mouth jerks up in an involuntary smirk when Cas's bare toes dig into the carpet, the legs of his too-big sleep pants dragging around, barely revealing them.

"Hey. You're up."

"Hello, Dean," he yawns.

"I didn't mean to wake anybody. Go back to sleep, Cas."

Castiel only shakes his head and invites himself in. He rounds Dean and sits beside him.

"You're not going to sleep?" he asks.

"Nah, not yet. Still keyed up from the drive, the coffee."

Cas nods. There's a long moment before he says, "I'd like to talk about something."

Dean frowns. "Well, that sounds serious." He really doesn't wanna right now, but. It's Cas.

He puts the Styx album back in its sleeve and stacks everything back up properly. He hands Cas one of the unopened bottles from his bedside table and takes the others again. "C'mon. Let's not wake Sam up." Whatever it is, Sam doesn't need to get involved. Sam is... going. Soon. He'll be moving on. The less they have to bother him with, the easier it will be for him. All he wants is for this to be easy for Sam. It doesn't have to be pulling teeth, like the way Dean (always) feels it.

They settle back down at the great table. Dean pulls up an extra chair to toss his crossed legs into. When he's eased back and sipping his first beer, he motions for Cas to proceed. Cas slides his own beer over with the others Dean's not opened yet. He pulls a chair close and sits forward on it.

"I watched you raking leaves when you were with Lisa. More than that. I would come and watch you work under your truck. I saw you often. I wanted to ask for your help but I was afraid I'd ruin your life and all I wanted was for you to be happy and safe for once."

Dean is very still until he sits up and sets his bottle on the table. Cas compresses his hands between his knees and continues.

"Also," he clears his throat a little. "On a related note. Naomi forced me to kill thousands of copies of you in heaven so that I would be ready to kill you when she ordered me to. But when the moment came, I couldn't. Because your words cut through my programming. You said you needed me and all of heaven's brainwashing could not prevent me from breaking free to heal you."

By now Dean is perched on the edge of the chair, basically slack-jawed and--

"Th--" is the only sound that comes out from behind his teeth.

Cas gives a resigned nod, and turns to some of the things scattered across the table.

"Thousands," he confirms.

For a few minutes, Dean doesn't catch on to his body's signals. He doesn't know he's kind of hyperventilating. One of his hands floats up to the table and slides right off when it thumps down from the sweat on his palm.

He's breathing, like, super fast. And a little erratic and there's white edging in on his vision.

Cas doesn't stop gathering papers into a neat-ish pile. He does pause to slide Dean's beer back at him. Dean can work his hands enough to gather the bottle and take a swig and press the cool glass against his cheek while he tries to calm down.

What.  
Are all these things Cas just said.  
What are they.  
What.  
What is.

Cas moves the chair that Dean had been using to prop his feet up. He scoots himself closer and removes the bottle from Dean's hand, places it on the table. When he is close enough and settled, he gathers one of Dean's hands in his own and wraps his other hand around Dean's wrist.

It's this calm assessment, this steady intake of information and the touch of Cas's fingers at his pulse that starts to work. He breathes. Breathes.

And when he can almost regulate his breathing on his own, Cas lets him go to slide over some of the stacks of papers. Magazines.

Magazines?

Wedding magazines.

With two fingers, Dean turns one of them towards him. He doesn't know why, but despite the fact that Cas looks a little doubtful, a tiny bit worried, it still feels like he's sunk down. Like Cas is sitting up above him and he's slid to the floor and he's _totally_ confused--

He's not confused.  
He's totally not confused.

He's so super not confused when Cas's hand finds his again and he slides their palms to press this time. It must be gross, his clammy hand. But Cas holds them together. And Dean hears himself as if from very far away:

"I went off the deep end after you walked into that lake--after. After the Leviathan walked you in there and also. I was having nightmares. Lots of them. I couldn't stop seeing you drown and I carried your coat around from car to car because I kept hoping you'd come back." He breathes. "Also I sort of cracked in purgatory and slaughtered every monster I got my hands on to find you and I thought I was seeing you everywhere when I came back and you didn't. And I kept leaving the angel sigils off the walls because I kept hoping you'd come home. I prayed to you after you fell because I wanted you with me and I never wanted to kick you out of the bunker." He stops to insist. "I _never_ did, I'm so _fucking_ sorry." Cas looks like he's about to talk but, "Also I screamed your name when that reaper stabbed you. And I watched you work at your job and almost didn't go in to talk to you because I love you and I didn't want to pull you back into a shitstorm again so please stay here and stay with me and don't _go_ \--"

He might go on except for the breathing thing. That tends to get in the way, especially when you've just poured out your guts in maybe twenty seconds flat. It was so quick, like a band-aid. He barely has time to feel like a desperate moron. It was like he got uncorked or something.

Should he put his head between his knees? He's suddenly blank. Is that what you're supposed to do?

He looks down and his eyes clench shut but his hands can locate Cas and they do. They clutch at him until Cas is tugging back, seeking his attention.

When Dean's eyes come back up, he is level with Cas. They are nearly of a height, this is normal. But it doesn't feel like he's shrunk, like he could be crushed anymore. He doesn't feel small beside Cas.

Cas tugs again, until he's certain he's got Dean's attention. Pulls their hands up on the table. He stares, he is quiet to make sure that Dean understands all of it. The magazine under their hands and the ones piled at his elbow. The little notes peeking out of corners with dates and times and prices. Lists of colors and of flowers. Things he hadn't seen before, at a glance, when first coming in.

"I bought beer and porn for you once," Castiel says, all seriousness. "They were out of pie."

Dean nods. "Okay. Okay. Cas," he swallows down all the old panic, "I wanna marry you."


End file.
